


The One With Dick Grayson

by CaraMia



Series: The Billion-Heirs' Club [8]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:53:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8705782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraMia/pseuds/CaraMia
Summary: "Bruce, dear, did you steal someone's nine-year-old?""I'm eleven," mumbled a voice from under the table."Bruce, dear, did you steal someone's eleven-year-old?" Pepper said without missing a beat.--This will probably end up being a series of connected-ish one-shots feat. Dick Grayson.





	1. He's Under the Table the Whole Time (1/2)

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhh what?
> 
> this happens after Bruce comes back, and after Tony is Iron Man, but before Bruce has really adjusted to being in regular society again.

  
"I think he forgot," Tony said, looking sadly at the mansion's front door. Pepper would be inclined to agree if she hadn't triple-checked everything with Alfred yesterday. He _had_ seemed rather distracted on the phone. 

"Do they have a spare key somewhere, do you suppose?" It seemed incredibly unlikely, given the fact that it was a mansion and had its own full-time butler. 

  


They'd been planning this trip to Gotham for months now, with Bruce and Alfred's full support (Bruce's support mostly meant he didn't tell them no when Tony suggested it). They'd been planning on hitting up all the expensive bars in town and causing a media panic. Pepper had been looking forward to it. Given their twenty minute wait outside the front door, it was seeming less and less likely that their visit would proceed as hoped. 

Just as Pepper and Tony were debating putting the armor on and breaking in or driving to a hotel, the door opened a fraction. Bruce peered out at them, looking somewhat panicked. He didn't open the door any wider when he saw who it was. 

"Tony? Pepper?" 

"Bruce?" Tony said, in the same tone of voice. He added, unnecessarily, "He forgot, Pep." 

"Bruce, is everything alright?" Pepper had never seen Bruce so out of his depth before. 

"You - oh, fuck, it's the first week of December." 

Pepper had also never heard him swear. 

"Usually comes after the last week in November," said Tony, like he was imparting ancient wisdom. Pepper pinched him. 

"Bruce, won't you let us in?" 

"I - yes, um. I guess you'd better. Hm." He still didn't open the door, blinking at them like he was still acclimating to their existence. Tony gently pushed at the door when he realized Bruce was frozen. It slid open with very little resistance. 

  
Once inside, Pepper could hear Alfred speaking - he sounded like he was trying to coax an animal out from underneath something. Curiosity well and truly awake now, she led the way to the kitchen. 

In a corner of the kitchen, tucked under a table, was a child. Pepper's brain shorted. Judging by the strangled noise Tony made, so did his. Bruce was watching everyone - face now empty of any potential tells. Alfred glared at them for distracting him. 

Pepper couldn't help herself - she crouched in front of the table and smiled at the young boy. He didn't smile back, but he didn't burst into tears, so she counted that as a positive. He had the same completely bewildered expression Bruce had been sporting when they'd come in. 

"Hello there," she said, "my name is Pepper. What's yours?" 

"Dick," he mumbled. "Is your name really Pepper?" 

"Is your name really Dick?" 

That startled a smile out of him. 

"I'll be right back, I have to go say something to Mr. Wayne." Pepper stood and smoothed the lines of her skirt before facing Bruce. "Bruce, dear, did you steal someone's nine-year-old?" 

"I'm eleven," mumbled a voice from under the table. 

"Bruce, dear, did you steal someone's eleven-year-old?" Pepper said without missing a beat. 

"Master Bruce has taken in young Master Dick as his ward," Alfred said. Pepper honestly couldn't tell if he was pissed or thought it was hilarious. Bruce's face was still carefully blank. She took a second to see how Tony was feeling. 

Tony Stark stood a little away from them, hands in his jeans pockets and a thoughtful look on his face. He was watching Bruce but met her eyes after a second and raised an eyebrow. 

"Well!" Pepper rested a hand on Alfred's arm. "Looks like we'll be changing our plans for this visit. Alfred, I'm afraid we're going to impose on you for dinner after all. Tony, why don't you and Bruce go cancel our reservations?" 

Tony smiled at her and dragged a now-scowling Bruce out of the kitchen. She watched them go before turning back to Alfred and the table where Dick was hiding. 

"Now, what can I do to help?" 

\-- 

That night, after a surprisingly pleasant dinner where they managed to cheer up young Dick Grayson and get Bruce to crack a smile, Pepper tucked herself against Tony in their guest room, smiling as he complained about her cold toes. 

"Dick's parents died," Tony said, answering a question Pepper wasn't sure she would have asked. "Bruce was there. He feels like he should've done something to stop it but there's..." He shook his head. "There's no way he could've. It brought up a lot of bad stuff for him." 

_Just for Bruce?_ Pepper wondered but didn't bother asking. 

"Children aren't penance," Pepper said, after a moment. "Do you think he knows what he's doing?" 

Tony chuckled. "No way in hell. But he's gonna do his best for Dick and he's got good help - Alfred basically raised the both of us." 

"I just hope his idea of 'what's best' for Dick isn't... well, isn't what he thought was best for _him_ after his parents died." 

There was no answer from Tony, just the press of his lips against her forehead.


	2. Bruce and Tony Manage to Talk About Their Feelings (Briefly) (2/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For once, Tony was going to be the adult in the room. He hoped it didn't become a habit.
> 
> Bruce finally, finally got tired of waiting and snapped, "Say it."
> 
> " _Did_ you steal him?"

Tony closed the door to the study behind them. 

Bruce already stood on the other side of the room, facing Tony with his arms crossed and a determined expression on his face. Tony was tempted to make a comparison - Bruce right now looked so much like the kid he'd met in boarding school. Determination covering up fear. 

_The more things change,_ Tony mused. He waited by the door, watching Bruce and making no attempt to move or cajole or any of the things he would normally be doing right now. As much as Tony disliked having straightforward talks (why bother when obfuscation was so easy and close at hand?), this was not something he would take lightly. For once, Tony was going to be the adult in the room. He hoped it didn't become a habit. 

Bruce finally, finally got tired of waiting and snapped, "Say it." 

" _Did_ you steal him?" 

Bruce scoffed and turned away, pacing the length of the room. Tony preferred it - an active Bruce was much less scary than a motionless (could be about to do anything) Bruce. 

"Well, Bruce, if you didn't steal him," Tony continued, keeping his voice even, "and I'm not ruling that out yet, how did you end up with an eleven-year-old boy hiding under a table in your kitchen?" 

"He panicked when he woke up somewhere he didn't immediately recognize," Bruce had started off strong but as he continued he sounded less and less sure of himself, "and apparently the kitchen is the nicest room in the house?" 

"Bruce. This isn't like bringing home a kitten you found in a box," Tony hoped no one was recording this, he sounded like his mother - or worse, Rhodey. "He's a kid. A scared kid. He looks like his whole world --" 

The metaphorical penny descended. 

"Is he --?" 

"Yes," said Bruce, seeming glad not to have to say the words out loud. Tony understood the sentiment. He would give anything not to have to see any more kids with dead parents. (Parents who died without any extra relatives to take a kid in. Parents who probably died violently, otherwise why would Bruce be involved? Oh god help them, parents who probably died violently /near/ Bruce, because otherwise why would Bruce be involved. No wonder this was a shitshow.) 

Feeling like he'd reached his quota of adult-ness for the day, Tony said, "Fuck." 

Bruce winced but nodded. (Something about being raised by a butler made Bruce's reactions to rudeness/swearing kind of hilarious. Tony, who had been mostly left to raise himself, had no such problems.) 

They ended up sitting next to each other on the couch - close enough for their shoulders to brush. Minutes passed with neither looking at the other. Unlike silence with almost anyone else, silence with Bruce didn't make Tony itch to speak. 

"I'll reprogram Penny," Tony announced at last, grabbing on to the one solid thing he can do right now. "Where is she?" 

"Harassing Alfred, I imagine." 

Tony stood, crossed the room, opened the door, and let out an ear-piercing whistle. Seconds later, a small, red monster truck whirred into the room and bumped into his leg. 

"She answers to that?" 

Tony looked across at Bruce and realized that yes, two men in or near their 30s were about to have an involved conversation about a toy monster truck in order to avoid having to talk about their feelings anymore. 

"Obviously." Tony picked Penny up and sat back on the couch. He murmured an apology to her and turned her off so he could get to her electronics. "Didn't you ever try calling for her?" 

"She doesn't answer to her name, I know that much." 

"Well yeah, you named her after _your butler_ and also small change - anytime someone called him or you needed small copper-ish coins, she'd come running. Well, driving, anyway. So, whistle to summon. It's a thing - I've totally seen it done." 

"Oh? I didn't know Pepper had-" 

Tony poked Bruce in the side, hard, right where the other man used to be super ticklish. Ninja training apparently involved tickle resistance, though, since Bruce just raised an eyebrow. Grumbling, Tony turned his attention back to the monster truck. 

"I can't promise not to let him get involved with what I do," Bruce confessed. Tony's stomach dropped but he kept his eyes on Penny, waiting. He didn't have to wait long before Bruce continued, "He saw his parents die, Tony. I'm never going to stand in his way if he decides that's what he wants." 

Tony accepted that. Bruce understood having a mission. It was what had finally snapped him out of the haze he'd lived in after witnessing his parents' murder. Tony liked to joke and say he'd annoyed Bruce back into the real world, but the truth of it was that Bruce had fought his way back and it had changed him. 

He hoped history didn't repeat here. Armed with experience and Pepper's help, maybe they'd pull through. Speaking of... 

"You know, Pepper will kill us if anything happens to the kid." 

"I don't need a _threat_ to make me keep a careful eye on him," snapped Bruce. Then, relaxing a little, "besides, you know Alfred would get me first." 

Tony couldn't argue with that. 

\-- 

Dick didn't seem to know what to do when handed a tiny monster truck. He looked at it, then Bruce, then, for some reason, at Pepper. 

"It's how he shows affection; I promise it's safe," Pepper said, grinning down at the boy. Tony tried to decide if he should be offended. 

"It's got a camera," Dick pointed out, as if this changed anything. Tony was quickly remembering why he didn't spend time around people who couldn't buy their own alcohol. "Is this some kind of weird Big Brother is Always Watching thing disguised as a gift?" 

"No," said Tony, "that's what the nano-bots Pepper slipped into your hot chocolate are for - OW, dammit, Pep." 

She glared at him. 

Inexplicably, Dick looked excited about this. "You have _nano-bots_?" 

"Definitely not," said Tony, then winked at Dick as soon as Pepper had stopped glaring at him to help Alfred set the table. 

\-- 

They only spent a few days at Wayne Manor in the end. Bruce didn't have any Bat-mergencies and they had a couple of cozy nights with everyone gathered, playing games or watching movies. Dick warmed up to them, easily becoming a second shadow for each of them in turn, followed by Penny (who eagerly chased him wherever he went). 

  


Tony tried to teach Dick poker, only to be completely trounced in three rounds. When he stared at the kid, Dick looked up at him with big eyes and said, " _Gosh_ mister, it must be beginner's luck - can we play again?" 

"Well, what did you expect," said Bruce, when Tony complained. "He _was_ raised in a circus." 

"Wow, okay, I know at least two people I'm never introducing him to." 

  
Dick had nightmares and ended up wandering the manor. They found him in the mornings either in the kitchen or, one memorable morning, cuddled with Alfred on a couch. 

Their last morning together, Pepper screamed, summoning them all to the main hall where they found Dick hanging upside-down from one of the balconies. Penny was driving in circles on the floor, apparently upset at being unable to reach him. Dick appeared completely at ease, trying to calm Pepper down. 

Unfortunately, he followed it up by backflipping down to the floor, which did nothing for anyone's composure. He sheepishly explained over breakfast that he'd been itching to try that ever since he'd gotten there. 

"I thought everyone was still asleep!" 

"I'm sure that's a great comfort to all of us, Master Dick," said Alfred, in his special 'you've disappointed Queen and country' voice. 

\-- 

Once Tony and Pepper had said their goodbyes (including an Iron Man appearance because Tony could never resist a new audience), Bruce and Dick sat in the study, enjoying having the house to themselves. 

It was Dick who broke the silence. 

"You said you would help me with..." He trailed off, still focusing on the book in his hands. 

"My offer stands, Dick." 

"Okay," his hands tightened on his book. "Good." 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what my library doesn't have? Dick Grayson comics. It's like a weird conspiracy to keep me from updating my DC Batfamily knowledge.
> 
> I promise I'll write later-days stuff, but, it turns out I wanted to write this.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	3. Circus Bros (TM), Part 1 of 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is a sucker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Clint and Bruce meet during [Billionheirs Have Sleepovers Too](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7283755) \- but reading that is not necessary for understanding this.

Clint and Natasha had just finished a mission possibly in or near Gotham (plausible deniability meant their mission packet had just said "unnamed American city") when Clint got a call from Bruce Wayne. He stared at his phone as it continued to ring and the caller ID continued to say "Bruce Wayne". Natasha rested her chin on Clint's shoulder so she could see his phone screen. 

"Are you getting booty calls from billionaires now?" 

"I... I don't think so? What does he want?" 

Natasha gave him a look. "You could answer your phone and ask him." 

"You already know, don't you," Clint accused, pointing a finger in his partner's face. Natasha looked at the finger, then up at his face, then raised an eyebrow. He lowered his finger quickly. "What if it _is_ a booty call? Nat, don't leave, I'm not ready to be a billionaire's booty call!" 

Natasha walked away, saying over her shoulder, "I'm not going to be involved in this mess. See you back at base!" 

One of the strike team members yelled from across the field, "Hey, if you don't wanna be a billionaire's booty call, pass the phone along! One of us will go!" 

"You're gay, Miller!" Clint yelled back. 

" _Billionaire_ , Barton!" 

"Yeah, yeah," Clint grumbled, gladly turning away from the clean-up to answer his phone. "Barton." 

"Clint, it's Bruce Wayne, is this a bad time?" 

Clint briefly treasured Bruce Wayne announcing who he was like he didn't know caller ID was a thing. It was adorable. 

"Not anymore, what's up?" 

"I need your help," Wayne said, following it up quickly with, "I wouldn't normally ask but Alfred's gone for the week and Pepper threatened to kill me if I gave Tony an excuse to leave their conference early, but she said you would be nearby and I could ask you." 

Suspicion began to creep into Clint's mind. This did not sound like a booty call. This sounded like... 

"Can you watch my kid for a couple of days?" 

... babysitting. 

\-- 

"I'll admit, 100% of the reason I said yes was because I had no idea you had a kid and I'm super curious." 

"You're not a very good spy," said Wayne, dryly. "He's been mentioned in almost every article about me for the past couple of years." 

On the phone, Wayne had sounded like he was going to either have a panic attack or call in a legitimate bomb threat in order to get out of his business responsibilities, but in person, he was as unruffled as ever. Clint suspected that had to do with a certain government agent's idiotic agreement to watch a kid he had no clue about. 

"I'm an assassin, technically. I let other people get information for me. Do I get to come in and watch the kid, or should I set up a nest somewhere? I can do distant surveillance, no problem. Kid wouldn't even know I'm there." 

Wayne smirked and let Clint into the front hall. 

"Given that you decided to arrive by quinjet, chances are good he already knows." 

Clint glanced over at where he'd landed the quinjet - right in the front drive. It was a little conspicuous. He toggled the remote stealth mode and saw it flicker out of sight before Wayne closed the door. It would be better if SHIELD didn't know he'd requisitioned a quinjet in order to babysit for a billionaire. 

He was going to make a comment about Wayne's living situation (seriously, a mansion, what the hell, this was worse than the tower) when a kid came crashing down the stairs - sliding down the banister and skidding right across to them, yelling the whole way: "Brucebrucebrucebrucebruce _didyouseethatjetwhere'ditgodoyouknowwho_ -" 

His skid and unintelligible yelling were stopped by Bruce's hand on his shoulder. 

"Dick, this is Clint. He's going to stay here while I'm gone, to keep an eye on the place - and you." 

"I thought Uncle Tony was coming?" Dick did not look impressed by Clint. Clint thought that was unfair, given that he was still in the tac suit with a fucking bow strapped across his back. He knew he looked badass. The kid was a tough crowd. 

Also: _Uncle Tony_? 

"Pepper threatened evisceration if I disturbed him so you're stuck with Clint. Try not to kill or maim each other while I'm gone, please." 

  
Clint and Bruce had a quick private conversation before Wayne left. 

"This feels like a misappropriation of government resources, but there are not many people I trust to keep an eye on him." 

"Also not many people who know what you guys do for fun," Clint pointed out. He'd witnessed some of the arguments about Batman's new sidekick and hadn't connected it with Wayne until now. No wonder Pepper was pissed enough to send Clint as a babysitter. 

"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but there's a list of numbers on the fridge in case of emergencies, along with my expected itinerary." 

Clint put his hand on Wayne's shoulder, stared into his eyes, and said, gravely, "Congratulations, Bruce Wayne. You're a real soccer mom now." 

"I doubt many soccer moms leave their children in the care of an assassin." 

"You would honestly be horrified how many times that has _not_ been true." 

Within ten minutes of Clint's arrival, Wayne was gone, and Clint was left staring down at a fourteen-year-old. 

"So, uh, what do you do for fun around here?" 

Dick grinned. "Fly jets." 

"Oh, no way," Clint deadpanned, "if only some rube with a jet had been conned into watching a kid for a couple of days. Too bad." 

  
They ended up making dinner and watching a few classics. (Clint's idea of a classic was the 1982 version of The Thing.) By the time midnight had come around, Clint was asleep on one of Wayne's extremely comfortable couches, still in his tac suit. 

Dick woke him up at the end of the movie by throwing popcorn at him from across the room. 

"We've got beds you can sleep in, you know," said Dick. Clint gasped dramatically - the effect was ruined somewhat by the fact that his face was still smushed into a pillow and his eyes were closed. 

"Your dad's huge mansion has _beds_! It's a Christmas miracle!" 

Another piece of popcorn pinged off his eyelid. 

  
He did eventually drag himself up the stairs to one of the guest rooms, with Dick dogging his steps. Clint had no idea why he was being followed. He was pretty sure he could find his way and honestly wasn't planning on stealing anything (except maybe the little hotel shampoo bottles he was hoping Wayne kept his bathroom stocked with). 

He found a room. Perfect. He turned around to close the door on Dick. 

"Hey, no offense kid, but I like to sleep without someone staring at--" 

"He's not really my dad." 

Clint was not awake enough for this conversation. Tact would be good here, probably, right? What would Tasha do? Never mind. Tasha would never be stupid enough to let herself get roped into babysitting. 

"Okay," he said, "I can stop calling him your dad if it bothers you." 

"No!" Dick yelped. "No, it's fine, I don't care - I just. . ." 

The kid was obviously hoping Clint would swoop in and save him from the conversational hole he was digging. Clint, who thought he might be hallucinating from lack of sleep, said nothing. 

"I'm just gonna," Dick gestured in a vague direction and then bolted. Clint said, "okay whatever" and went to finally get some sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual shenanigans will happen in the next chapter, I promise!


	4. Circus Bros (TM), Part 2 of 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeeeahhh there's gonna be another part after this one. I've had this much of it written basically since Christmas so I want to throw it out into the world so maybe my brain clears a little and I can finish the rest of this.

  
"Am I going to regret asking how you got up there?" 

It was very early and there was a teenager literally clinging to a corner of the ceiling and wall in the huge entryway like some kind of demon from the Exorcist. Clint didn't like mornings - he could do them, but was usually bitter about it all day - and that was without the addition of a teenager with an apparent death wish. 

"... This isn't what it looks like?" Dick suggested. He clearly hadn't been expecting Clint to be up for a few more hours. Clint hadn't been expecting Clint to be up for a few more hours either. He was still on mission-mode, which meant he woke up early and suspicious, especially when waking up in an unfamiliar place. 

"That's good because it looks like you're about to descend and possibly eat my face off. Is there coffee?" 

Dick nodded. 

"Good," Clint said. He was about to wander off to find it when he thought of something else. "Yell if you fall and die and or maim yourself." 

He wandered off. 

  
\-- 

  
With two cups of coffee in him, Clint was able to examine the kid's antics a little more clearly. 

The stunt had honestly reminded him of being in the circus. The kids, and especially the acrobats, had often dared each other to do more and more ridiculous stunts - being able to surprise the old-timers would earn you major notoriety, at least until someone else pulled off something bigger and louder. 

Clint weighed that against the pretty excellent slide down the banister the kid had done yesterday. He poured himself another cup of coffee. He texted Natasha. 

Her response pinged through seconds later: _JFGI, idiot_

Clint responded: _:-| on vacation_

Nat: _ur bbsittng for a $$$$ not bsy wtf teh goog is ez_

Clint was twisting the phone around, trying to decipher this, when Dick bounced in to the kitchen. The kid poured himself a coffee, glancing at Clint to see if he'd stop the unnecessary caffeine intake. Clint sipped his own coffee and said nothing. He was already certified as the world's worst babysitter - he wasn't about to try to enforce any kind of rules here. (Also, Natasha would probably laugh her head off at the idea of Clint trying to deny anyone coffee.) 

Dick sat in the chair across from Clint, set his coffee on the table, and pulled a newspaper from under his arm and flipped it open seriously. Clint stared at it, baffled. People still got newspapers? Stark would be incredibly offended. Now that he thought about it, though, Wayne probably bought newspapers just to annoy Stark. Clint snapped a quick picture and texted it to Natasha because he couldn't resist giving her reasons to laugh at him. He also sent it to Bruce, on the grounds that proof of life was usually required at this stage. 

Nat responded first because she basically lived with her phone close to hand on her off hours. 

Nat: _ru bbstng a snr ctizen???_

Clint typed out his response slowly: _if u've been kidnapped by aliens, ask what happened to Mulder's sister, pls_

Nat: [middle finger emoji] 

Across the table, a short buzz alerted him to the fact that Dick had a cell phone and had just gotten a text on it. Clint glanced up just as Dick was lowering his phone, obviously having just taken a picture of Clint in revenge. There was another text on Clint's phone now - this one from Bruce. 

Bruce: [attached picture of Clint, coffee in one hand, tongue sticking out as he typed slowly on his phone] _Dick says "mess with the bull etc" whatever that means. (Thanks for the pic.)_

"How has he not seen _The Breakfast Club_?" Clint wondered out loud. Dick dropped the newspaper so he could throw his hands in the air. 

"Thank you! I keep telling him but he's all 'not today, Dick, there's crime to be solved'." 

Clint was really impressed with Dick's Bruce/Batman imitation voice. Not bad for a 14-year-old. It was obvious he'd spent a lot of time practicing (leading Clint to wonder if maybe Dick and Alfred had Batman-voice-off competitions. Further investigation might be required. He bet Stark would help - hell, Stark was probably involved. (Clint clearly needed more coffee, this was making too much sense.)). 

  
\-- 

  
They went their separate ways after breakfast. Clint claimed he needed a nap and Dick looked happy to not have any adult(ish) supervision for a while. Clint waited until Dick was outside (trying to find and then break into the quinjet, apparently. Clint wished him luck, those things were a bitch and a half to crack, especially if you'd never seen one up close when it wasn't cloaked) before he set off to do some exploring of his own. 

Batman had to have a secret lair somewhere. Clint was gonna find it. 

He focused on the ground floor, deciding that the upper levels were too easily accessed and unless Bruce had huge towers cloaked somewhere (he didn't, Clint had checked for cloaking before landing to make sure he didn't squish a hidden sports car - Tony was never letting that one go), not big enough. 

That meant: secret underground lair. 

There were probably bubbling pits of acid or possibly shelves full of jars with weird stuff in them. Clint was personally hoping for a large tank with a cyborg shark. (He hadn't decided yet if he wanted an actual tank or just a water tank. Either would be acceptable; an actual tank would be way cooler.) 

He was standing on a mantelpiece, trying to gauge the dimensions of the room he was in (he'd already checked to see if there were any secret button bricks - no luck), when Dick walked in. Clint froze. 

"Uh," said the kid. 

"Yeah...," Clint frowned. "I got nothing. Real talk: is there a Bat lair? The suspense is killing me." 

"I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to answer that question," Dick pointed out. "I think it's on the list of 'Things Not to Do' that Bruce left on the fridge next to the emergency numbers." 

Clint grinned. 

"He left a 'not to do' list? Amateur. Let's go see what's on it." 

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Now accepting suggestions for the "not to do" list. :wink:~~ damn y'all are on point! Thanks for the help!  <3


	5. Circus Bros (TM), Part 3 of 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shenanigans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, just needed to move past that part. Wrote all of this in like two days. Thanks for your patience everybody, I hope you like it!

  
They found the list on the fridge, next to the list of emergency numbers. It wasn't that long but it had a header that had a couple of words crossed out but was still legible: _Things ~~Tony and Bruce are~~ Not to Do ~~While Alfred is Gone~~ EVER_. There were clearly some new additions at the bottom. One of them caught Clint's eye. 

"Do not," Clint read out, grinning, "in any way, turn the manor or surrounding environs into any sort of circus, figurative or literal." 

He took a picture of the list to taunt Tony with later. This whole babysitting thing was just piling on the blackmail material. 

"As if I'd set up a circus here," Clint said, drawn back to the list. "The manor grounds are a terrible place for a circus, there's -" 

"- too long of a haul," he and Dick said simultaneously. They stared at each other. 

"Alright, kid, I gotta know, what dog and pony show did you run with before all this?" 

"Haley's - wasn't no dog and pony either. My family were the Flying Graysons." 

Clint whistled, impressed. Haley's was just as big as Carson's had been, back in the day. They'd worked different circuits, trading off seasons and areas - no one in the circus wanted to compete with another circus. No one came out ahead in that situation. 

"Carson's for me, a long time ago. Hang on," Clint said, remembering something. "One of our artists left and went to Haley's. Was Janey still there when you were? Janey Colt." 

"Yeah! She used to tell all the kids stories about her other circus jobs." 

Clint had a sudden bad feeling. 

"Did she ever tell a story about, oh, for example, two brothers who joined the circus -" 

"And made complete idiots out of themselves? Yeah," Dick laughed, "those were some of her favori--" He stopped. He looked at Clint. "Clint... Barton? Hawkeye?" Clint, covering his eyes with a hand, nodded. "Ohhh." 

There was a long pause. 

"If it helps," Dick began. 

"It won't," Clint promised. 

"You're basically a circus meme. You're famous!" 

Clint ignored this, for his sanity. He made himself some coffee, shadowed by Dick, who seemed at least a _little_ sorry for inflicting this knowledge on him. Clint sat down with his coffee and Dick joined him. 

Halfway through the coffee, Dick spoke up again. 

"Can you really hit a target blindfolded?" 

"Kid," said Clint, glad that his idiotic mistakes were not the only stories Janey had told, "That is the least cool thing I can do." 

  


\--

  
"And we're sure this wasn't on the list?" Clint asked, twenty minutes later. Dick gave him a thumbs-up from the front lawn. 

"I triple-checked!" 

Clint nodded, gave a thumbs-up in return, and headed to the other side of the roof. It was a nice day - some clouds, barely any wind, not too hot, not too cold. Out on the front lawn, he and Dick had set up three targets: two genuinely awful portraits of Wayne ancestors that Dick promised both Alfred and Bruce hated but couldn't make themselves get rid of, and the coffee pot. (Dick had insisted that Clint needed personal stakes to motivate him. Clint had decided that Dick was evil and not to mention that the quinjet had a coffeemaker onboard.) 

Once he was situated on the other side of the roof, he tapped on his comm. Dick answered immediately. 

"I'm in position, out of range. We are go for Act One." 

( _What?_ Clint silently defended himself to Coulson's disapproving voice in his head, tutting about giving SHIELD equipment to a civilian. _It's not like there were any walkie-talkies around._ ) 

Taking a deep breath, Clint lifted his bow with two arrows nocked - breathed - and fired. He waited for a beat and then fired another two arrows. 

He tapped his comm again and said, "Both rounds fired, safe to check targets. Act One complete, over." 

From the other side of the manor, and audible through the comms, came the sound of the kid laughing. 

"Grayson?" 

The kid kept laughing. Clint sprinted back over the roof, sliding from the peak to the edge of the roof and stopping himself so he'd have a good view of the front lawn. Below were the three targets, coffee pot still intact, portraits... Clint whooped. 

Both portraits had arrows through one eye and through the heart. The rich, white upper-class ancestors looked like they were scowling in disapproval at the circus kids. Clint had never felt more proud. 

  


\--

  
They were sitting on the roof, eating junk food, swapping circus stories, and trying to plan their next act when Clint thought of something. 

"You know what we need?" 

"A ringmaster," Dick said, wistfully. 

"Exactly! I'm gonna call someone." As soon as the phone started ringing, Clint realized that no way she was gonna say - "Heyyyy Katie-Kate." 

_"Oh god, are you dead in a ditch somewhere?"_

"I wish I could be surprised that that's your first question." 

_"Clint, seriously. I'm kind of in the middle of something."_

Clint realized he had no idea how to phrase his question. 

"Uhh... wanna come help me babysit for Bruce Wayne's kid?" 

Dick rolled his eyes. On the phone, there was a very long silence. 

_"Is this a prank? Have you been kidnapped by aliens? Why on earth would Bruce Wayne leave you alone with his kid? Clint, if I have to leave this fundraiser I will but I swear -"_

"Never mind! Everything's fine! Jeez, Hawkeye, way to guilt trip a guy." 

"I thought you were Hawkeye," Dick said, opening another package of sour punch straws. Clint stole the candy instead of responding. 

_"Alright, I've really got to go. Call if you're in actual need of help."_

"Well that was fun," Clint said, after hanging up. "Always nice to be reminded I'm not the actual adult anywhere." 

"What about your partner, the scary redhead Uncle Tony talks about?" 

"Oh, no, no way. Nope. We are not calling Nat." 

Dick frowned. 

"Because she'd say no way?" 

"Worse: she'd say yes." 

There was a long moment where Clint contemplated this possibility with horror. Nat would love it. He vowed never to mention it to her. 

"Well," said Dick, "there's always the ropes course." 

  


\--

  
The ropes course, Clint decided, was his new favorite place on earth. Forget Disneyland. 

Outdoors, just a ten minute walk away from the manor, almost all high elements, _pirate themed_ and best yet: no belay lines. Clint could imagine all the broken bones. He couldn't wait to try it out. He pointed to the crow's nest, almost 100 feet up and apparently unreachable. 

"Dibs." 

"If you can get there, you're welcome to it," Dick said, already halfway up a Jacob's Ladder. "Alfred does not approve." 

"Thank goodness I've never met Alfred." Clint cracked his knuckles, loosened up his shoulders, and stepped back to find his starting point. "It's pretty sweet that you've got a human version of JARVIS." 

"What's JARVIS?" 

"What?" 

"What?" 

"You're telling me Stark hasn't bragged about his AI to you, seriously? Getting him to shut up about it was literally the first two months of our acquaintance." 

"He has an _artificial intelligence_ , seriously?" Dick was hanging upside down, two rungs from the top of the ladder, and swinging dangerously. Clint decided that a circus kid who could keep up with Batman probably knew what he was doing on a ropes course and didn't comment. 

"Yeah, kid, seriously." 

"Do you know where it's hosted? How many servers does that take up? It must be a learning system, probably helps him with all his design work. Oh man, that must be the guy who always answers when Uncle Tony's busy - I just assumed he had his own Alfred-" 

The kid kept talking, descending into technical babble that Clint could probably follow if he wasn't halfway up a power pole and concentrating on making a jump across to a cargo net. He was maybe starting to understand why Bruce and Tony hadn't mentioned the AI to the kid. 

Clint made it to the crow's nest. Dick was at the nearest platform, at least fifteen feet below him. The view was excellent. Clint had enjoyed being on the manor's roof but this was something else. The sun was sinking in the sky, lighting up the clouds in hues of pink and orange. 

He hadn't had a chance for a post-mission decompression. Usually, he and Nat did something ridiculous; last time, they'd played several rounds of no-holds-barred cosmic mini-golf. They were, of course, now banned from all cosmic mini-golf courses, but it had been worth it. He spared a moment to think of her dealing with post-mission decompression without him. He hoped she'd taken the opportunity to take Maria Hill out for martinis somewhere. They liked to wear their best pantsuits and hustle pool. He snapped a picture of the sunset and sent it to her. 

"Why's this," Clint tapped on the crow's nest, catching Dick's attention, "here if no one ever uses it?" 

"I think I'm not supposed to tell you that either." 

"Batman totally used it to practice his dramatic stance atop buildings, it's okay, you can tell me." 

Dick grinned but didn't respond and they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Once the sun had set they'd realized why most people didn't do ropes courses at night. Getting down in the dark was probably more of an adventure than Clint had wanted, but they made it (more or less) safely. 

"So," Clint said, stretching his arms over his head and enjoying the feeling, "where do you want to go for dinner?" 

"I think Alfred left some casseroles we could heat up," Dick said. "Driving and cooking were definitely both on the 'not to do' list, so I think that's our only option." 

"True," Clint said slowly, contemplating his next words. What the hell, it had been a fun day. The kid had a good head on his shoulders. "But there's nothing on the list about flying." 

  


\--

  
Bruce finally made it home a full night early thanks to some truly terrifying business tactics. The mansion was quiet, dark, and totally empty. He did not panic. If anyone accused him of having panicked in this moment they would find themselves dangled from the top of a very tall building. He very calmly ran through the mansion, checking high spaces and the Batcave and any nook that would fit a fourteen-year-old acrobat (there were a lot). 

As his eyes searched, his mind sorted through some truly horrifying possibilities, including Clint being a double agent. Or, potentially worse: Clint being ordered by SHIELD to kidnap Dick. But no, Clint had said SHIELD didn't know where he was because he'd taken the quinjet technically without permission -- and Bruce suddenly knew where they were. 

He was going to kill Clint when they landed. 

The quinjet reappeared thirty minutes later and hovered for a moment (Bruce didn't usually like to anthropomorphize vehicles, but knowing Dick and Clint were in it, staring at him standing in front of the manor with his arms crossed, he thought it looked like it was hesitating and contemplating running away) before landing. It took a really long time for the ramp to lower. Bruce treasured imagining the argument going on inside as they tried to figure out who would go out and face him first. He had a feeling it'd be - ah, yes - the ramp was lowered and Dick came barrelling out. 

"Bruuuuuce! Didja see? Clint took me up in the jet!" 

Bruce made sure his expression didn't twitch at all as Clint descended, hands held up as if Bruce was pointing a gun at him. He came to a halt in front of Bruce and sheepishly ruffled his hair. Dick disappeared inside, clearly taking advantage of Clint as a distraction to leave him to suffer alone. Bruce would talk to him later. (Not about the jet thing, he didn't care about that. Knowing where they had gone was the important part.) 

"If it helps," Clint said, "I did not let your fourteen-year-old son _fly_ a quinjet. Passenger status only." 

Bruce wondered if he should point out that he could see Clint crossing his fingers. 

"I think I understand why Tony never wanted to introduce the two of you." 

"Aw, you guys talk about me at your PTA meetings? That's cute." 

"Where did you go?" 

"Small town about an hour away," Clint said, grinning. "There's a little mom and pop diner - amazing hamburgers and shakes. Sorry you didn't get to come with, we didn't know you'd be back tonight." 

"Neither did I," Bruce admitted, uncrossing his arms and relaxing a little. "I might have been a little aggressive in my business dealings in order to get home sooner." 

"Didn't trust the secret government agent to keep a careful eye on your kid?" 

"I was worried," Bruce said. "But I see that was unwarranted. Thank you for being here with him. Are you staying tonight? You're welcome to; I know I must have messed up your plans." 

"Pfft, plans," said Clint. "Nah, I've got everything packed up on the quinjet. I'll get outta here." 

He shifted from foot to foot. 

"Did you know I used to be in the circus?" 

"Tony mentioned it, once or twice." 

"Yeah," Clint was looking over Bruce's shoulder at the manor. Bruce resisted the urge to look as well. "Listen, I'm - I know I'm like, the worst kid-sitter ever, but, uh, this wasn't the, uh, worst. So, I guess, if no one else is available again, I wouldn't, um, hate helping out again." 

"Noted," Bruce said, finally laughing. 

(When he went back inside after Clint took off and saw the mangled portraits he understood the agent's decision to leave quickly.) 

* * *

  
**Bruce's Things Not to Do List**  
(adapted from a list Alfred made for Bruce and Tony years ago)  
\- [penciled in at the top, clearly by Bruce:] DO NOT take this list as a challenge  
\- DO NOT give sentience and/or mobility to any normally unsentient and/or immobile object  
\- DO NOT call any reporters, for any reason, ever [addition:] or tweet, or otherwise contact any reporters, for any reason, ever  
\-- ~~this includes "hilarious" pranks, such as the kidnapping scam you ran on the Wayne Enterprises and Stark Industries boards~~ [penciled in by Bruce:] do not listen to anything Tony tells you about this, he's a liar  
\- DO NOT damage anything in the house  
\- DO NOT drive ANY of the cars  
\- DO NOT attempt to cook anything (food or otherwise)  
\- DO NOT.  


("What even," said an eighteen-year-old Tony, "this just says 'do not', that's not an actual instruction." 

"I think," said ten-year-old Bruce, "it's to cover anything he can't think of. Like a lawyer putting in vague language to make sure they can sue you for everything, not just some things." 

"I'm really worried about the education you're getting, Brucie.") 

\- DO NOT, in any way, turn the manor or surrounding environs into any sort of circus or sideshow, figurative or literal  
\-- this includes the importation or acquisition of animals, especially large and/or exotic specimens  
\- DO NOT call any other superheroes, unless you are literally about to die  
\- DO NOT respond to any emergency calls. Not even you, Clint. I took your SHIELD phone.  
\- DO NOT show off any of the mansion's more "interesting" features, Dick.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUPER KUDOS to you guys for helping me with the list, you're all amazing.
> 
> Dear God in heaven NEVER do a ropes course without proper safety equipment. These kids are idiots and you should not emulate them.


	6. Teenage Rebellion (1/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick Grayson Runs Away From Home

There were very few situations that managed to surprise Steve Rogers: Captain America, Reckless Adventuring Man Out of Time. Finding an unknown teenager casually watching the news in what Tony Stark called "the most secure location, like, ever" was one of them. Steve stared at the teenager, baffled. The teenager lifted a hand and saluted lazily. He had a black eye. 

"S'up, mon capitaine?" 

Steve, who had made a career out of sneaking up on and then punching Nazis, was completely caught off-guard by the appearance of a teenager in the Tower. The TV kept playing the news but Steve had the kid's full attention. 

"I take it you're. . . " There was absolutely no scenario that made any sense. Steve gave up trying to guess. "I'm Steve, though I guess you knew that already." 

"It's a little obvious," the kid said. "I'm Dick Grayson. Visiting Uncle Tony for a few days." He added, under his breath, "Or weeks or months or the rest of my life." 

"Well, welcome to the tower," Steve said, his brain rejecting the phrase 'Uncle Tony' as a hallucination - probably a previously unknown byproduct of the supersoldier serum. Dick gave him a thumbs-up and grinned. 

Steve thanked his lucky stars when he heard Tony approaching a few seconds later, interrupting what would surely be a super-awkward attempt at small talk. (Steve was usually _great_ at small talk. It was, however, nearing midnight and he was wearing his pyjamas. He liked turning his brain off when he put on his pyjamas. They were very soft.) 

Tony breezed into the room, wearing one of his special wrinkle-free suits, a pair of pink sunglasses, and talking on his phone. He must've flown the armor back from Stark Industries when he heard that Dick had arrived. 

"Give me two seconds to check," Tony said to his phone, winking when he caught sight of Steve. He stopped abruptly when he saw Dick. Tony raised an eyebrow at the teenager. "Yeah, he's here," Tony said, carrying on his phone conversation. "No, I'll call him, Pep, thank you. Finish up for me? You're the best." 

"Hey, Uncle Tony," said Dick, grinning nervously. Steve's brain filtered this out again. It was too strange to contemplate. "Remember when you said I could visit?" 

"Hey kiddo," said Tony, offering a smile. He was clearly relieved to find Dick here and was struggling to sound stern. "Wow, are you in so much trouble. Don't shrug at me, I'm about to call off Wayne Enterprises for you - wait a second." 

He turned to Steve, who had frozen, stuck in the middle of a dispute he had nothing to do with. 

"Sorry, cap, mind if we have the room? My wayward nephew and I need some space." 

Steve, accepting that this was just the weirdest dream he'd ever had, nodded and left the room. 

Tony turned back to Dick once Captain America had cleared out. 

"You need to stay for a little while, no questions asked?" 

"No questions," Dick said, quietly. Tony nodded and returned to his phone, dialing a number and lifting it to his ear. 

"Bruce, it's me, he's here in New York." He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I have eyes-on. He's in my living room. He came straight to the tower. . . . What, and ruin our clearly needed bonding time? Brucie, he's been withering away without me. I can just tell. . . . No, you can't have access to the Tower's security cameras, stalker. He'll call you tomorrow evening, yes, he will," this was directed at Dick, who had started shaking his head, "I'm sure the conversation will be very short and mostly silent but Pepper informs me communication is key. Now, go out and punch baddies to blow off some steam." 

Tony hung up. "There. Jarvis, kindly inform me if he attempts to access the Tower's security cameras so I can call Alfred on him." 

He kicked off his shoes and joined Dick on the couch. He noticed that Dick hadn't taken off his shoes and his backpack was still packed up and within easy reach. He hadn't been sure that Tony wouldn't ship him back to Gotham immediately. That stung a little. Tony also noticed the black eye Dick was sporting. In many ways, Dick's life was more dangerous than Tony's own. Tony knew this, but knowing it didn't stop the way his brain skipped like a scratched CD at seeing the black eye. 

"You wanna stay up, kid, or crash?" 

"Do you have Halo?" Dick asked, fidgeting with what looked like a stolen Batarang. 

" _Do I have Halo_ ," Tony scoffed. "Please, impugn my honor some more. Might as well ask if I have VR headsets or pictures of Captain America baking. J, set us up." 

\--

The phone call the next day was, predictably, very short and very terse. No one yelled though, which Tony credited to Pepper standing over Dick's shoulder and (probably) Alfred standing over Bruce. 

They did set a day next week to send Dick back to Gotham. Tony had offered to get him transferred to a New York school so he could hide all semester if he wanted, but Dick had vetoed the idea. Gotham and the manor were home, and he wanted to go back, just, not quite yet. 

\--

Later, much later, when they'd been in the workshop for a couple of hours, working on separate projects in silence, Dick finally decided to talk. 

"Bruce offered to adopt me," Dick said, in a small, barely there voice. Tony froze. 

"And that's," said Tony, scrambling to pick up from the past few minutes where he had not been paying much attention to figure out whether this was - "bad?" 

"I don't know," Dick said, picking apart a circuit board. "It wasn't... it was when we first started the whole," he waved a hand, managing to convey 'thing where we stalk the night'. "I told him no, thanks, because I already had parents and they were still _there_ , you know?" 

Tony nodded. He remembered wandering around his parents' home, over a year after their deaths, looking for some sign that they'd be home soon. Then his brain caught up with him and reminded him that they'd never be coming home -- 

"And it's been a few years and I guess I thought he'd bring it up again, but." 

"He hasn't," Tony said, once he was sure Dick was finished talking. "And you're worried he's changed his mind." 

"He's been so _angry_ lately. It's always been hard to tell what he's thinking but," Dick sighed. The fluorescent lights aged him. He looked exhausted and Tony's heart broke for him. He wished again (and again, and again, and...) that they could find some peace, all these broken boys of war. 

"You don't have to bring it up with him ever if you don't want to. But I can promise you, 100% guaranteed, no matter how angry he gets, he doesn't regret taking you in." 

Dick's focus was turned entirely on one of the robots, listening carefully. Tony didn't normally do emotional reassurance but he knew how Dick felt and Tony had never had anyone to tell him stuff like this. 

"He's scared for you and he loves you and he's probably trying to make sure he respects your wishes. As far as he knows, you still feel your parents are there. If there's anyone who's going to respect and understand feeling like your parents are still... around... it'll be the guy who started dressing up like a giant bat and stalking the night because of his." 

Dick choked out a brief laugh. Tony turned back to his work, flipping a screwdriver over and over, giving Dick a small measure of privacy to wipe away his tears. 

"Take your time. You don't have to be the adult in this situation, you really don't. Just know that, alright. Know that he wants you around." He grinned, still looking at his table, not really seeing the wires in front of him. "And hell, if he doesn't want to adopt you, I will. It'll be the most talked about company takeover in history -- oof." 

He swayed as Dick got up and hugged him. Tony, trapped by strong young arms, could only get one hand free to return the hug, but he did so. 

\--

Dick went home a few days later, much lighter in spirit, but much heavier in gadgets. Tony had been building up a small stockpile of things that he thought Dick would like or have a use for over the past couple of years. It turned out that Dick liked _all_ of them. 

"You okay shipping him off on his own again?" Clint asked, waving from the tarmac where most of the Avengers were gathered to say goodbye to their unexpected guest. Dick, already in the plane, waved frantically back, grinning. 

"He showed up here on his own," Tony said, shrugging. "Plus, I don't fancy getting a talking to from Alfred or Bruce about this. At least here I can hide." 

Clint snorted but didn't argue. He still hadn't met Alfred, but the stories he heard were painting quite the image. Tony took a picture of Dick on the plane and sent it to Bruce with the caption "the robin is in the air". 

(Tony still got a talking to, since Alfred called and Tony was permanently conditioned to always take Alfred's calls. But since he also thanked Tony for taking care of Dick and returning him safely, Tony counted it as a win.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Sorry, not sorry that I basically write Tony as the softest, saddest teddy bear around Dick. He has so many feelings.
> 
> \- So, I know there's lots of contention between Dick and Bruce, especially as Dick grows up and wants to do his own thing, away from Bruce's very black and white view of the world and justice. I know this. I do not, however, think that any of that means that Bruce would ever regret offering Dick a home. 
> 
> \- There will (eventually, hopefully) be a bonus part of this where Dick meets the rest of the Avengers but I make no promises as to timeliness.
> 
> \- Steve just continually baffled by the people around him is highly amusing to me and I don't know why.
> 
> (Please feel free to tell me if my grammar is weird. I'm tired and felt more like posting than editing.)


	7. Teenage Rebellion Bonus: Grayson + Tower Residents (2/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some meetings between Dick and the Tower residents.

I. 

Dick stayed in New York for a week and a half. He spent most of his time with Tony but he couldn't resist wandering the common and less-common areas of the Tower, exploring a place he'd heard stories about for years. Tony had mentioned that every Avenger was currently in residence or had plans to be in the Tower within the next week so Dick was hoping he could meet everyone before he left. 

He found Clint baking cookies at one in the morning. Clint looked up and beamed when he saw Dick. 

"Hey, kid! Tony didn't tell us you were here - what's going on?" 

"Teenage rebellion," Dick said, sheepishly. Clint laughed and offered a fistbump. 

"Fuck yeah, stick it to the old people!" 

They ate all four dozen of the snickerdoodles Clint made and fell asleep while watching Gremlins. 

Tony found them still asleep on the couches when he emerged from his workshop at 7am to take Pepper out to breakfast. (They go get omelets. It's a thing.) He takes a picture because they're adorable and leaves them to sleep.  


  


II. 

Dick was amusing himself by making use of the ridiculous gymnastic equipment Tony just had lying around. He was practicing a standing backflip, trying to figure out if he could genuinely use it as a move against an attacker. (Bruce kept telling him not to be so flashy. Dick kept insisting that being flashy gave him an extra edge. They were at an impasse and both Alfred and Pepper refused to mediate anymore.) 

"It's only useful as a distraction," came a voice from the other side of the room. Dick landed, wobbled, and looked up at the Black Widow. She was in casual workout clothes which were, for some reason, bright, horrifying, pink. Her tank top said "SQUATS? I thought you said SHOTS". Everything clashed with her bright red hair. Dick opened his mouth, tried to think of anything to say, then shut his mouth. 

“The backflip,” she clarified, like Dick hadn’t heard her. He opened his mouth (again) to say something but the only sound he managed was a small “eep”. She grinned. 

~*~ 

“Jarvis,” Tony said, standing in front of Dick’s empty room, arms folded over his chest. “Where is the wayward youth?” 

“Mr. Grayson is in the acrobatics gym --” 

“Ha, knew installing that was a good choice.” 

“-- with Agent Romanoff.” 

Tony twitched. 

“Is anyone dead or soon to be?” He said, finally. 

“My sensors indicate they are having a good time. Agent Romanoff has just stated Mr. Grayson’s adorableness.” 

“Oh, boy.” Tony considered for a moment. “He’s probably fine.”  


  


III. 

Thor arrived with his usual elegance, crashing through a wall of windows while wrestling a giant feathered beast. Dick, who had been beating Tony at Halo, tackled Tony to the ground away from the unexpected threat. 

“Dick, get off me and say hi to Thor,” Tony said, dryly. Dick got up slowly, peeking over the back of the couch to take in the Asgardian and his unconventional ride to the top floors. “Thor,” Tony called out, “meet my nephew, Dick Grayson.” 

“GREETINGS, SON OF GRAY,” Thor announced, kicking the feathered mass out of the broken window. A few seconds later there was a squawk and the sound of a car alarm going off. 

Dick, still hiding behind the couch, said, softly, “Oh my god.”  


  


IV. 

Dick and Steve play video games. Steve still hasn't worked up the nerve to ask about "Uncle Tony".  


  


V. 

“There.” Pepper stepped back, examining her work. Dick touched his bow tie, wondering how she’d managed the perfect bow in just a few seconds; Alfred had been trying to teach him bowties for a year. 

“Now all we need is --” 

“FOUND ‘EM,” Tony announced, bursting through the door, waving a small box over his head. “Pepper, you would not believe where I found these, can you imagine: there I was, minding my own business, upgrading the ‘bots chassis --” 

Pepper plucked the box from his hand as he kept talking. She opened it and showed Dick the pair of cufflinks inside: silver circles with the Wayne family crest inside. 

“Tony told me to tell you that he stole them from Bruce years ago and forgot about them, but actually Bruce had them sent for you.” 

“Lies! Slander!” Tony winked when he caught Dick’s eye, but continued on his rant about Pepper impugning his honor anyway. 

“This is why no one invites you to parties anymore, Tony,” Pepper said, talking over him. “Happy should be waiting downstairs. Are you ready to go, Mr. Grayson?” 

“I believe I am, Ms. Potts,” Dick smiled and offered his arm to her. 

“Is this what parenting feels like?” Tony mused, taking a quick picture of them. “Kid’s first museum-slash-press-shindig. I’m so proud. What’s this thing you’re going to, anyway?” 

“It's a history of computing exhibit!” 

Tony gasped and turned big, sad eyes on Pepper. 

“Oh no, don’t make that face at me,” she said, laughing. “Your exact words were: ‘Pepper, please never take me to any museum exhibit opening ever again, I don’t care if it’s solely an exhibit dedicated to Bruce’s face, leave me at home.’ I’m merely following orders, Mr. Stark.” 

They leave Tony pouting in the tower. 

  
The tabloids have no idea what angle to run with, so they run ALL of them. 

"COUGAR POTTS ON THE TOWN" 

"STARK INDUSTRIES STEALING WAYNE ENTERPRISES’ NEW HEIR?" 

"POTTS AND STARK SECRET LOVE CHILD" 

“POTTS AND WAYNE SECRET LOVE CHILD” etc. etc.  


  


+I. 

Sometime later, Bruce emerged from his epic science bender. When Bruce went on a science bender, he didn’t forget to eat and sleep, but he did completely cut off contact with the outside world. 

The first thing he did was seek out Tony, because Tony always had the good coffee and always wanted to know when Bruce was back in the land of the living and non-sciencing. He found Tony in his workshop, playing catch with the robots. He said he did it to help calibrate them but Bruce suspected ulterior motives. Tony recognized the science-bender look by now and stopped the game to pour Bruce a cup of fresh coffee and did not talk until the first cup was completely empty. 

“How’s my favorite scientist?” 

Bruce updated him on what he accomplished, taking a seat with a refreshed cup of coffee. He enjoyed the opportunity to talk through his processes; it gave him a chance to reflect and catch any possible flaws in his logic or workflow. 

Halfway through the second cup of coffee, he paused. 

“This may be a strange question,” he said, slowly. Tony waved for him to continue. “Was there actually a teenager here for a few days, or do you suddenly have a really young assistant?” 

“What would I do with an assistant, that was my --” He stopped. Closed his eyes. “I forgot to introduce you two?!” 

“That was your…?” Bruce prompted, but Tony held up a hand. 

“Hang on, I need a minute to really take in the fact that I forgot to introduce you. Wow. That’s terrible. I’m officially the worst - Jarvis, make a note.” 

“Done, sir,” said Jarvis. 

“Tony, who was it?” 

“That, Dr. Banner, was my nephew - one Dick Grayson, ward of Bruce Wayne.” 

“Oh, that was Dick? I didn’t realize; I’ll have to send him something to apologize. He was so excited about visiting.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“Tony, he and I have been emailing each other for months - I told you this.” 

“Noo…” 

Bruce ignored this. He stood up, finished off his coffee, and set the mug in front of a still confused Tony. 

“Thanks, Tony. I’ll be back later.” 

He strode out of the workshop. Tony, left alone with his ‘bots and incredibly confused, muttered, “How does this keep happening?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of Steve? This has been sitting in my drafts, 90% done for a couple of months, so what the heck. 
> 
> And that's all the stuff I have figured out for Dick Grayson right now! I'm sure I will write more eventually, so the chapter count remains open-ended.


End file.
